


Battle of the Queens

by Castiell



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Action, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gen, Hate to Friends, I think it'll be Percy/Jason hating each other at first, Jasico - Freeform, Jiper, M/M, Multi, Percico - Freeform, Protective Jason, Queen Annabeth, Queen Piper, Queens, Romance, alternative universe, frazel - Freeform, jasper - Freeform, jercy - Freeform, kingdom au, more tags to be added as needed, multiple POVs, percabeth, solangelo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-29 07:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiell/pseuds/Castiell
Summary: Queen Annabeth of the frigid Eastern Kingdom and Queen Piper of the balmy Western Kingdom have made history by attempting to end the gruesome war that has been fought between their countries for centuries.Loyally standing by their side is their right hands, Jason and Perseus respectively. All yearn to finally end the exhaustive fight that, if continued, could secure the downfall of both nations.But the hatred that exists between these two kingdoms runs deep, and as these four struggle to rid the world of it, a torrent of shocking revelations surge to strike them down; secrets better left hidden, love forbidden at the highest level, wounds, wreckage, betrayal, abuse...Everything that will guarantee these nations ground each other to dust.Can our heroes rise above it all? Or will they travel the blood-soaked path the gods have laid out before them?





	1. An Unblinking Stare

**Author's Note:**

> -IMPORTANT-  
> The fanart that made me want to write this, the title, and the very idea itself is from @Joleanart (On Tumblr and Insta). I specifically got it from her instagram post detailing it, and was pretty inspired by the absolutely gorgeous art.
> 
> I've been a fan of Percy Jackson (and Rick's other mythology books thereof) for the longest time, and this seems like I really cool idea, so I hope I can deliver!  
> If anyone whose read my other fics is here, you're aware for my love of causing pain and also deep crave for validation.  
> The rest of the chapters will be much longer and I don't have a complete plot outlined, so if you have an idea for this AU, I am 100% open to hearing it.  
> That's all for now,  
> Enjoy,

An unblinking stare.

 

It is a look crafted from days of unyielding conference, months of negotiations, years of ruling.

It is a look the two queens have mastered, monarchs like no other, both as fierce as a lion and as ruthless as a wolf.

They level their gaze to the other, making it clear with no words just exactly what they will and will not do.

 

It has only been a day since the uneasy cease fire of the East and West kingdoms, rival rulers who have been fighting long before their current queen’s time.

 

In the Western Kingdom, the legend of how the East began the war-By encroaching on their territory, slaughtering the helpless farming villages that lined the border, moving closer and closer until something drastic had to be done to stop them-That legend is proclaimed every month by the royal storyteller, in the kingdom square.

The people gather around so that they know their history, realize who they are fighting, and understand why they wage this seemingly endless war.

 

The Eastern Kingdom possessed quite a different narrative; one of how they were simply trying to put empty lands to use, their ever-growing population in a desperate need for food. 

Suddenly, the first settlers were attacked by Western savages they hadn’t even known existed, what else could be done but fight back?

Yet, the West seemed to believe the dark blood staining the East’s pale hands was innocent, and when they retaliated, quickly, harshly, the Eastern Kingdom suffered more than they expected.

 

That which followed was the death of soldiers fighting for a passionate reason, the death of their brothers and sisters. Then eventually, it was because they were told to, and then because it was what they had always done.

This war was practically tradition, and not one easily broken.

 

But as two new queens rose to their duty, as those before them had done, as they gazed upon their ravaged, hungry, _tired_ people, they looked into each other’s eyes, and decided no more.

 

An unblinking stare.


	2. Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.instagram.com/p/BhVJd7wF9Kz/?taken-by=joleanart
> 
> I highly recommend looking at this beautiful art by @joleanart that is s t u n n i n g.

The Easterners were cold.  
 

It is a word they described them well, and not just the people, but their very nation. Summers were mild enough yet short, winters lengthy, dark, and the very definition of frigid. A possibility was that, over a very long period of time, they came to embody the land they possessed.

Their common trait was sharp blue eyes, a resemblance to the dangerous ice that overtook their paths and roads, with no regards to the mortals trying to use them. The majority of them had blonde hair, varying shades to be sure but it ventured as light as possibly, as if attempting to blend in with the delicate snow that so often fell upon them.

And of course, the most telling sign, their pale white skin, as pale as death himself must be.

 _The essence of life is bleached out of them, vengeance for the innocent lives they claim,_ The Westerners whisper to each other, common gossip among the horror stories that come back with their soldiers.

But there is a grace among the Easterners, that cannot be described. It is in their very atmosphere, they breathe it in and out and it shapes them. Even the children have a razor look in their thin face, a constant questioning of everything, dismantling what lies in front of you look.

They possess strict morals, strict values and despise those who dare refuse to follow them. They look out for each other, and only for each other.

Despite their kingdom’s unfortunate plot regarding their enemies, the East has been favored by some of the gods and goddesses.

They especially revere those of the Sky, Wisdom, Union, and the Hunt.

 

* * *

The Westerners were warmth itself.

 

A just description, encompassing all their practicalities and traits, from the thick hair that was all shades of dark-Ebony, molasses, bark and so on-to the smooth skin that varied in tones the same as their hair. It is the loving embrace of the sun that darkens their skin and their oft-braided hair, pronounces their shadows.

They are welcoming to strangers and neighbors alike, treasuring family and friends above all else. Yet there is a double side to them that is difficult to become aware of, a side that grasps anyone who gets too close, infiltrates the heart and soul to learn all your secrets. The better to control you, to own you.

Additionally, there is a powerful anger that boils inside, unbeknownst to even themselves sometimes. It can be wild, uncontrollable, even

 _Savage,_ the Easterners hiss in quiet tones, on guard even in their own towns, for an attack from these...Monsters?  _They can lure you in, or spring on you from all around. They drain every drop of blood from your body, it darkens their skin. That’s why they look the way they do._

But there is a beauty among the Westerners that cannot be captured. It is in every look, every glance, every movement, simple or intricate. It calls out to you. Intoxicates you like the fine drink they craft from the exotic fruits that bloom in their climate.

They possess ideals of love not limited to one single person, holding the beliefs that will complete your soul above all others.

Despite their kingdom’s unfortunate plot regarding their enemies, the West had been favored by some of the gods and goddesses.

They especially revere those of the Sea, the Sun, Fertility, and Hearth.

 

* * *

Of course, the immortal beings can never belong to just one people.

Death, War, Beauty, and the Harvest in particular, all much too similar to each other than anyone realizes, can take no sides.

For who among either of the kingdoms has not experienced the impartial touch of death? The prosperity of a good harvest? The compulsion of war, or the allure of a special someone?

The miseries and joys of life can never be avoided, no matter which half you stand on.

* * *

Perseus was having a long day. It could be seen in the arching of his eyebrows when any of the many people that needed-Or wanted, to talk to the queen’s right hand man, approached him.

It was also in the tenseness of his shoulders, as he stood beside his queen, that only practiced diligence kept as straight and as true as the deadly bronze weapon sheathed by his side.

His mind was wandering as the seller before him, the last in what had been a very long line of citizen complaints and misgivings and opinions, pleaded for an investigation into who damaged his prize-winning cabbages-They were his very livelihood, and couldn’t the queen please do something because it was most definitely that _scoundrel_ Amos-  
   
Perseus only snapped back to attention when the heavy wooden doors guarding the throne room were finally closed. He waited until the queen dismissed the multiple and heavily armed guards from the room before finally dropping his shoulders. Perseus turned to the queen, an exhausted grin already on his face as she slumped forward in her chair, most unqueenlike.

The queen raised her fingers to her temple, gently massaging as she quietly remarked, “An endless war plagues our nation, we are steadily running out of resources for the weapons we so desperately need to survive, and above it all, goddess of Hearth does not answer our prayers...Yet, _his cabbages-_ ”

Perseus laughed loudly before she could say anymore, and he was joyed to see it caused Queen Piper to look over at him and smile.

“How do you remain so stoic, Percy?” She asked wonderingly “I do not think I could manage it standing.”

Percy bowed low, only half-mocking, “It is all for your honor, my Queen.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth that the queen was ringing her servant’s bell. Almost as quickly as she could pick it up was a maid, clothed in the loose coral colored dress  that was her uniform, entering the room with a low curtsy.  “Please Livia, fetch me a pillow. Any one at all will do.”

Perseus stared at her in question, but she ignored him until the maid promptly returned.

“Thank you, my dear.” Piper said, before grabbing the pillow from her hands and chucking it at her right hand man. He wasn't expecting it, and this trained soldier of the castle stumbled backwards as it smacked him in the face.

He was already reaching down to return the queen’s favor when she pointed at him, “Throw that pillow and it's treason. You’ll be arrested.”

 Percy’s hand lowered to the ground, as did his gaze, for a single second before yelling, “Worth it!” and hurling it back at her. Piper dived off the throne to avoid being hit, as if the pillow were a deadly weapon, and gasped out loud. “How dare you! My most trusted friend and soldier. How could you?”

She bent down to grab the pillow, no doubt to continue this ongoing battle, when a sharp knock at the door interrupted her movements.

Percy and Piper spared each other only a glance before scrambling into their positions, the queen still holding the pillow. She stared at it as if it were a curse, before tossing it to Percy, who gaped at her and tossed it back. This went on for a short while before the knock sounded again, exasperated-sounding in the noise.

Percy, who held the pillow at the time Queen Piper proclaimed, “You may enter,” pitched it across the room, as far away from the guilty parties, so that when General Reyna of the Western Kingdom’s Armies opened the doors and walked in, all she saw was a projectile fly past her. With a speed that could hardly be registered, Reyna’s sword was thrust out, and she was suddenly surrounded by quality down feathers, having cleaved the innocent cushion in half.

The look she gave the composed queen on her throne, staring straight ahead, and the collected ultimate kingdom’s soldier (also not meeting her gaze) was an unimpressed deadpan.

General Reyna waited for an explanation, but neither figure gave one and so concealing a grunt of disapproval that she could always whip out on her soldiers, she sheathed her sword, cleared her throat and finally met the eyes of the queen.

“I bring news of the unsettled peace with the East, my queen.”

Her words sombered the near empty room immediately; the Queen inclined her head so as to give her permission to speak.

“The 34th squadron has met up with their respective cavalry unit and are at the border of  West and East on guard just as commanded. The East’s own units are there as well. Neither side is engaging.”

Piper placed her hands on her stomach, taking a deep breath of air and holding it in for several moments before firmly releasing it. It was an old gesture for taking the fears of those in the room, acknowledging them within yourself, and then releasing them, removing their power.

“Very good.” She commented after a brief pause. “Has the messenger yet returned from their side with the details of the Peace Summit?”

“Yes, that is why I am here. I have the details.”

The queen’s face settled into a mask unreadable by all but a special few, that which included the young man next to her. Perseus knew she didn’t want to betray her hope, such a dangerous emotion that it was.

“The Eastern Queen has agreed to the Peace Summit, and has also suggested a place to convene.” Immediately Perseus was suspicious; he caught Piper’s eye and shook his head ever so slightly, knowing she would understand his meaning.   
If this so-called “Peace Summit” was on their land, there was no possible way Percy would even let his queen cross the threshold.

“Where is it, Reyna?” He asked, his deep voice reverberating through the grand room.

The general’s sable eyes met his own emerald ones, “Half-Blood Point.”

Half-Blood Point was a small valley from which an old but stable tower, where both kingdoms had claim on the land. It was possibly the only neutral ground the Easterners and Westerners had formally agreed on, and a very smart choice.

Regardless, Percy’s eyes narrowed. It seemed to fit a little too perfectly.

The queen’s question interrupted his thoughts, “Did they provide a date for us to meet?”

“Yes. Upon a fortnight. It only takes five days to travel there however.”

“Then I will go before you,” Perseus declared. “And take the best guards with me. We will scout out the location until both queen’s arrival, as well as sweeping the tower. Does that suit you?” He asked Piper, who solemnly nodded,

“Depart immediately tomorrow and be on your most cautious guard.” She warned. Neither of them needed reminder of what the Easterners were capable of.

Piper turned back to the general and nodded her thanks. “Reyna, send your swiftest soldier immediately to the Eastern conclave with our Kingdom’s agreement. Aside from that, you are dismissed. Thank you for kingdom’s service.”

Wordlessly the woman clamped a fist to her chest before swiftly turning around on her heels, her black braided hair swishing behind her, walking past the mutilated pillow, and departing.

The doors shut with a slam, leaving the room silenced save for a resounding bang. The quiet continued until Percy approached the throne.

“It would not be amiss to consult the oracle, Piper.”

The queen sighed heavily, much too substantial a weight on her young shoulders. “I know. It is just that-I have asked about the Hearth goddess so frequently, and every time it is the same. She has abandoned us.  It has made me dread to see the oracle every since she revealed that.”

Percy opened his mouth to respond and comfort but Piper already knew what he was going to say, “I know, and I will consult her. In fact, she will be coming with me on our journey.”

Perseus nodded sagely, a wise decision.

“As for now, you must prepare for your journey. They say this is for peace, but the Easterners-”

“Are not to be trusted. Believe me, Piper, I know.” He gave her a soft grin, knowing it might ease some of her worries. “Both my sword and skills are as sharp as ever.”

She smiled back, “I am glad for that, I have no doubt you will need it.” But it was with the god’s fortune that Piper could see she need not fret about Percy’s safety. He and Reyna were the best fighters their kingdom had ever seen. Different beings in battle, it had been remarked, by those lucky souls that were able to witness it.

He would be fine.

She would still fret anyway, but he knew there must be some consolation in her knowing that.

Mirroring her earlier actions, Piper rang the bell and requested of the maid that entered to summon the Oracle.

 

“I  am so worried about our kingdom’s fate.” Piper admitted after a quiet beat. The words themselves were whispers, as if by making them louder she would solidify the distress. “Am I doing what’s right by our people, Percy?”

“Yes,” The words were already out of his mouth before she had even finished talking. “And you know you are, Piper. Every week they line up and every week you listen to every single one of them, their worries and complaints and fears.” The edge of his lips quirked, “Their cabbages.”

That garnered a small chuckle from her.

“You greet all your maids and servants by name, what other queen can lay claim to that?”

Piper’s expression was confused, as if she thought that all rulers extended such generosity to those serving them. Percy know it wasn’t even a debate in her mind, but rather the type of person-The type of leader, she was.

“I know what they want from standing next to you and listening, just as you have done yourself. They want safety and security, and above everything else, they want peace. You will provide that.”

Piper reached for his hands and pulled them close upon grasping then. They leveled their foreheads against one another, breathing in each other’s spirit.

“ _We_ will provide that.” She corrected, her tone quiet. “I could not have done any of this without you.”

“Likewise, I could not have done any of this without the kingdom paying me.”

Piper cracked a smile and resisted the urge to push her best friend away.

“You will leave tomorrow, Perseus. By all the gods and goddesses, even if they seek to abandon us, you must stay safe.”

“I will. I promise.”

Promises were as dangerous in this world as hope, but not so dangerous as this soldier who made it.

They released each other just as the Oracle entered the room.

 

 _Such a strange woman,_ Percy found himself thinking as they smiled at each other in greeting, before she bowed low to the queen.

Her skin was almost as pale as an easterners-The sun not darkening it much despite the fact that she had been found and raised here all her life-and flecked with beauty dots all over her body. Her hair was something else entirely, as wild as the fiercest Westerner and a burning red, like fire leaping from her head, ready to burn anything that came close.

Kindness almost always shone in her eyes however, a similar shade of green to his own; this gifted woman made a loyal friend and forceful enemy.

Not that she had any enemies within this kingdom, the Oracle was as beloved as the Queen herself.

“Rachel,” Piper smiled, inviting her to approach. Rachel looked as tired as Percy felt; something seemed off with the girl. Her gaze was troubled, distressed.

It was something the queen immediately picked up on as well as she asked, “What happened? Is something wrong? Word from the Hearth?”

Rachel’s sad smile was answer enough to the last question, but in reply she said, “Nothing has happened. Just a particularly troubling case with one of the citizens; a young girl trying to save her friend from an unknown disease.”

Piper’s chest might as well have been opaque, Percy could see her heartstrings clench.

“And?”

Rachel shook her head morosely, “There is no cure found in these lands. It is complicated in itself, you need cultivated magic and a special blossom. But it is far away and unreachable in this war zone. I recommended her some herbs but, the gods have spoken. Without this, he will not recover.”

After a moment of grief that no one save the girl herself could feel as much as Rachel, the Oracle shook her head and apologized. “My regrets, Queen Piper. I did not mean to burden you with that, I sense you have more than enough weight to bear already.”

Piper waved away the apologize but the grim expression remained, “You were summoned because we need your foresight, Oracle. Tomorrow, Perseus will be leaving for Half-Blood Point, to scout out the place for a Peace Summit with the Easterners.”

Rachel’s eyes widened as the Queen continued, “We will take whatever wisdom and caution the gods will give.”

The oracle nodded, immediately centering herself in front of the two and closing her eyes.

“Uh, wait-” Percy interjected, causing her to peek one eye open at him. “I should go prepare myself, as well as notify the soldiers I take.” 

In reality, he did not want to witness the Oracle’s transformation before his departure. It always managed to unsettle him, the ethereal glowing of her eyes, the hazy green mist that poured out of her mouth, always appearing like a snake about to strike, the monotonic tone that came over here as the gods used her as their messenger.

Perseus could live without seeing it just this once.

Piper nodded her consent, guessing his own intentions well enough but releasing him anyway. “As soon as we receive any forewarning, whatever it may be, I will call you back and we must discuss them.”

He bowed to her, “Of course, my queen. Oh, and Rachel,” The Oracle turned to look at him, “Put in a good word to the gods for me. Not that I need anymore luck.”

His mischievous smirk stayed on his face as he turned around and left the room, Piper’s exasperated eye-rolling making him grin even more, but the Oracle’s face was dark, as if she had already had a vision.

“Perseus," Her soft words rang out behind him, "I fear that you will need all the luck you can get.”


	3. Hazel

Hazel had the most striking eyes, the strangest tears, and the cruelest life.

This was all due to the fact, she believed, that the gods had cursed her.

A dramatic assumption for such a young girl, to be sure, but this realization seemed inevitable.

 

The death of her mother when she was only a child, the absence of a father in her life, the difficulties she faced as a young orphan struggling to survive on her own, the dangers that such a life brought.

Starting every day already exhausted, watching her own back at all hours of the day, not even being able to bring herself to trust anybody…Almost everybody.

And now this. This final slap in the face, this spit at her feet. Something that no amount of survival experience could ever remedy.

The one person, the only person whom she could ever trust would be snatched away from young Hazel, just like every other good thing in her life.

 

So what other conclusion could she come to? No doubt remained in her mind. The gods had deemed her life forever one of misfortune.

 

Embarrassingly enough, it was this realization that caused her to completely break down in front of a stranger.

He was an elderly man, hunched over with gray edged hair and skin even darker than hers. He was manning one of the many shops at the kingdom’s main market where Hazel had been somberly strolling through, as if she were in a funeral procession.

The main market was one of the perks of living so close to the castle itself; only the very best was sold here. The very best and the very expensive.

She had been gazing for a while at the man’s products-Fine, rosy red apples that she would have brought by the bushel if not for the fact she had no money to do so-When he kindly smiled down at the young girl and asked her how her day had been, undoubtedly expecting a positive answer.

Instead, her face scrunched up a little bit, her lower lip quivered, and in her precious metal eyes, the old man saw a sadness that no one her age should have to feel.

Then she began to cry.

 

His reaction was a normal one for her: He immediately stumbled backwards, starting in shock at the liquid gold that fell from her eyelashes, staining her cheeks in a sparkling stream.

Staring at her in disbelief, the old man was far too surprised to make any comment about it, but regardless, Hazel knew that she needed to share all this emotion with someone _now,_ or else outbursts like this would be happening much more often.

With shaky hands, she wiped the tears off her face, smearing the gold against her skin in blurry patterns.

With an even shakier breath, she told him the story of her mother, how she had died when Hazel was but ten years of age. She told the story of her father, how he had never even been in her life to begin with. She told the story of herself starving in the streets and on the verge of death, before being saved by the only person she had ever loved that wasn't her mother.

Her best friend, her future husband as he so teasingly referred to himself as, the boy who has carried her feeble body to his tiny living place and singlehandedly nursed her back to life.

“But now-” She gasped, those stubborn tears starting up again. “Now Sammy is-He is sick. He is sick and I do not know what to do. I have tried every herb, every concoction, every salesman remedy, but none of them work. He is glazed and giddy during the day, barely coherent. During the night, he thrashes violently around in his sleep, sweats so much he is soaked by the morning. And he always remains delirious, speaks of things that have no meaning.”

Her sobs quieted as she looked into the worried eyes of the man above her.

The entire bustling crowd around her was searching for things that could all be found in this shop; food, clothes, wares and trinkets. But where could Hazel purchase security? Safety? A guarantee at life?

She knew that even if this items were able to be bought, tangible purchases that could be plucked off the shelves, there was no way she would ever be able to afford them. The cost of such a thing would be astronomical.

 

“Talk to the Oracle!” The old man offered, finally overcoming his astonishment which had steadily been replaced with sympathizing heartache over this young woman’s sorrowful story. “She offers her divine services free for any citizen. Maybe she can tell you what to do.”

The shimmering tears brimming in her eyes quivered, as if they were given a reason not to overflow.

Hazel jumped forward and hugged the old man, who after a short second, embraced her back in a comfortingly grandfather manner that she had never felt before.

'Thank you so much, sir.” She exclaimed, now self-conscious at how quickly she had broken down. “I will visit the Oracle immediately. But first…”

Her words paused as she searched for the purse buried deep in her skirt pocket. She brought it out and unclasped the rusty catch, pulling out two coins as golden as her tears.

These apples were more costly than Hazel preferred, but this man actually had given her something she wouldn't have been able to buy anywhere else. Hope.

“I would like to buy an apple, please.”

 

The man’s hand glided over the ripe fruit, expertly identifying the best of the batch. He snatched it up and tossed it to her, but shook his head at the coins in her hand.

“It is a gift from me. May the gods bless you and your friend.”

His compassionate matter towards her-A complete stranger-almost sent the glittering waterworks over the edge once more, but she managed to hold it in.

“Thank you, you are a good man.” She bowed once, western symbolism for utmost respect and departed with a smile that was not even completely forced.

Hazel ignored the dark voice in the back of her head that snarled a harsh reminder, _The gods had never blessed her before. Why would they start now?_

 

Hazel knew the Oracle didn’t know what to make of her.

A young girl, dark hair with tight curly ringlets surrounding her head like a celestial halo. Liquid gold streaks that she had completely forgotten to wipe off were smeared across her cheeks. Her clothes was filled with holes, tears and dirt stains but they were close to the best she owned. To top it all off, she was holding an apple out in front of her bowed head as an offering to the gods’ chosen one.

She was a bit out of place in these earthen set of caves, citizens of the West both leaving the place satisfied with their sought answers, or approaching it for guidance. There was a line behind Hazel, outside the entrance of the cave and blocked by a thick fabric. Everyone was waiting patiently, just as she had, to see this mystery and seek its help.

 

The oracle’s surprise vanished after a second, and with a demure grin on her face, she snatched the apple and took a big bite. The crunch was satisfying to hear, and it prompted Hazel to lift her head. Shyly, the smile was returned.

“What can I do for a beautiful maiden such as yourself?”

The red blush was subtle on Hazel’s dark cheeks, and she lowered her gaze once more as she began to tell her story for the second time that day, now in a controlled but delicate whisper.

The oracle listened to it all in silence, but Hazel missed all the quiet reactions, instead staring at a particular interesting stone beneath her feet.

Her shaky plea for advice ended with a breathy hitch as she once more raised her head and looked directly into the bright green eyes of who she hoped would be her savior.

“What can I do to save him, dear Oracle?”

 

She was smiled upon, “Please call me Rachel.” Rachel’s hands clasped against her chest, “My heart aches from your tale. I will consult those that gave me this power and see what must be done. Have faith, young one. The gods will bless you accordingly.”

Hazel’s smile wavered. She could easily put her faith in this woman in front of her, but it was harder to do so with the gods.

Wordlessly, she nodded, hoping that would be enough.

 

Rachel seemed to think she was nervous about the process, as she kindly explained, “I will close my eyes and commune with the gods. I cannot tell you how long it will take, but do not worry. My earthly body will be completely silent and still during the entire time. Do you understand?”

Hazel nodded again.

Satisfied enough with that, Rachel smiled gently once more before closing her eyes, her head dipping ever so slightly.

 

Hazel waited, almost motionless herself for the first couple of minutes, until her body became too restless, and she dared to venture a little more into the cave. She passed the time by taking note of the many portraits lining the stone walls behind the Oracle.

Landscapes, people, animals, hybrids-Even gods were displayed, recognizable by their sacred symbols. Bright, vibrant colors laced them together like an ever growing tapestry.

 

Several strange things caught her eye as she walked deeper in, torches on the wall lighting her way.

There was a muscular, well-built Westerner in armor, his hauntingly harsh green eyes blazing with a golden sword pointed down, as if the painting was done from the perspective of someone he had defeated.  

Further down, there was the backside of a man equipped with a bow and arrow, an ethereal red glow based around his entire body. It looked so realistic, Hazel thought she was actually witnessing it pulsing. It caused a cold shiver to run up her back, and she quickly moved on.

Her eyes picked up the pace in scanning, gruesome images blending together with confusing ones until she was forced to give a double take. A life size painting of what looked to be a young woman was suddenly before her; the face was blocked from view, just like the man before. Yet Hazel still felt she could have been staring into a mirror-Albeit a backwards one.

The thick curls on the woman’s head had her lifting up to stroke her own in wonder. This girl was dressed in armor, and standing before what looked to be a steep cliff.

 

Hazel found she could not tear her gaze away, but more than that, she found that as she stared, the picture seemed to shift. Was she imagining things, dealing with hunger hallucinations again?

It had to be, for what else could possibly explain the lifting of the young woman’s foot over the cliff, as if she were to step off?

Minutes passed, or possibly even hours, until Hazel noticed a cloaked figure in the painting approach the lady. She wanted to cry out to her, to warn her, but of course she could not. Her only choice was to stare as the woman turned around at the exact same time she took another step and found no more cliff to stand on.

In the painting, the woman’s wild hair was blocking her face, but one moment more and Hazel would be able to see who it was.

Just one moment more-

 

Hazel almost screamed in freight as she heard a sound behind her; the panic did not lessen as she saw the Oracle’s body wildly jerking about.

Hazel ran back to the young woman, not at all sure if this was the process. She had just decided on shaking Rachel awake when the Oracle’s eyes flew open.

 

The tables had turned and now it seemed time for Hazel to stare in shock at an abnormal quality of someone else, this case being the pair of glowing green eyes staring directly at her.

Hazel froze, unable in that moment to move or even talk. She had no idea if this was normal Oracle proceedings or not-Rachel certainly had not said anything about this-And she was even considering walking out and letting the next people deal with it when Rachel’s mouth fell open. A sickly green, the same color as her glowing eyes, began to pour out.

 

 _“Hazel Levesque,”_ A voice very unlike the Oracle she had just met hissed, and she knew that whatever change had taken place, this thing was no longer Rachel.

_“Your fate has been decreed. Hecate has chosen you for herself. You will be given the opportunity to save the ones you love. But you will fail, unless you have done what you never have before. You must-”_

Suddenly, Rachel-The real Rachel-gasped, as if she were in desperate need for breath, and then the Oracle closed her eyes once more, and froze.

She stayed like that, completely still, for a full second before non-glowing eyes opened and her breath resumed. The wispy mist surrounding them dissipated within moments.

 

Hazel did not know what to think. At all. The Oracle’s prophecy had shaken her to her bones, and despite the humid weather blowing in the cave, she felt as if she would never be warm again.

“R-Rachel?” Tentatively, she reached out to touch the young woman, possibly just to make sure she was real, but Rachel shook her head in reassurance.

“I am fine, Hazel, thank you. Let me just have a moment to collect myself. It is always difficult to look into the future for something specific. If you are not careful, you may end up seeing something you were not meant to. That could be disastrous. No one is meant to know their entire future.”

Hazel felt her heartbeat begin to slow as Rachel truly seemed herself once more, but no sooner had it calmed down did it rapidly increase as the Oracle’s words settled over her. Did she know about the green mist, the chilling prophecy? Was it something Hazel had not been supposed to hear? Had that been what she was referring to?

 

Oblivious to Hazel’s inner turmoil, Rachel forced herself to meet the golden gaze of the young girl In front of her. Hazel’s fate with this boy Sammy was not a fortunate one.

“I am-I am so sorry, Hazel.”

Hazel opened her mouth to respond but she was not sure what to say. She could hardly understand herself what the Oracle was trying to tell her.

“I consulted with the gods and your friend-He has a very rare and horrible sickness.”

Hazel has known that already. What she needed to know now was _how_ to cure it, and a deeper part of wanted to know if it had been her own cursed self that had caused it.

“It is from a time before ours but it never completely disappeared.” Rachel continued, “This sickness ravaged and killed with a mind of its own before it mostly died down, many lives were lost.”

Rachel paused, needing a moment before she could truly get to the point. This was the worst part of being the Oracle, the moments that made  made her question whether or not it was all worth it.

“The disease was _so_ horrible it was never named, that is how scared people were to speak of it. The plant needed to make the cure was scavenged practically to extinction.”

“But some still exist, surely?”

The Oracle grimaced. “Yes, possibly. There is a chance. But the only location-It is not accessible to Kingdom citizens.”

“Rachel,” Hazel took a step forward and, desperately grasped her hands. “Please, tell me where it is. If this is my only chance to save Sammy, then I must take it. I owe him my life and for him would gladly give it.”

That was exactly what Rachel had been afraid to hear. There was the slimmest of chances that Hazel would be able to even travel to the land the rare plant was located in. But finding it, securing it, and then making the dangerous journey back, all before her dear friend succumbed to the illness? Rachel feared it truly was impossible.

But it was not just that which troubled the Oracle. What had been revealed to her about Hazel was not only worrying, but confusing as well. Bits and pieces had been revealed to her, and few were good. The gods were not revealing her entire fate, and Rachel had the eerie feeling this would not be the last time she saw her.

 

Yet as she looked into the ever so slightly teary eyes of the child-Gods, she was just a _child_ -before her, Rachel could not possibly refuse her request for knowledge, however futile it may be.

“The few last remaining plants _may_ be found past our kingdom’s only neutral territory, right at the front of the war zone. As I said, civilians are not allowed and it would be extremely dangerous to go, even fatal.” She held her gaze, hoping to convince the young girl of what would be safest and already knowing it would not make a difference.

 

Rachel silently deliberated with herself for a moment before pulling away and moving toward the back of a cave. Opening up an old and plain wooden chest, she pulled out a small square piece of parchment.

“Here,” She said, walking back to Hazel and handing her the paper. With slightly shaky hands, Hazel grabbed it, staring at a beautifully drawn picture of a flower she had never seen before in her life.

It was tar black, with thin, delicate looking petals sprouting in curled leaves from a snow white center and stem.

 

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, not even completely sure about what she wanted to say, a palace servant entered the cave without warning.

Bowing low, she informed the Oracle that she was in immediate request at the palace by the queen herself.

“I will come immediately.” Rachel responded, quickly donning her red cloak despite the heavy heat outside.

As the servant left, Rachel turned to address Hazel one last time. “I do not recommend entering a volatile war zone,” She cautioned with a grim look, “But if you somehow find yourself where you need to be, that flower is what you are looking for.”

“Wait, Oracle-“ Hazel stopped herself, struggling to decide what she should ask about in the precious few seconds she had left with the seer.

 

Confirmation that she was truly cursed? What about the strange incidence with the glowing eyes and smoke? That was not even to mention the shifting painting on the wall…

“Uh, I mean Rachel, before you leave, what did you mean when you said Hecate had chosen me?”

Rachel’s brow immediately furrowed and Hazel could recognize the confusion the question brought. Did the Oracle truly not remember what happened?

“What do you mean, Hazel?”

“Nothing, nothing! I am talking nonsense, Oracle. Thank you for all of your help, truly.”

 

She was able to spare only one last glance towards the back of the cave as she left, instantly finding the young woman who she felt called to in a way she was not able to understand.

Maybe it would clear up the multitude of questions that this visit had brought.

A part of Hazel was not surprised when the painting revealed itself to be as it always had: A woman on the edge of the cliff, face and body obscured from sight and looking, looking as if she were about to take a step off.

 

On the way back to the hovel where her best friend was in the midst of dying from a sickness she had little hope to cure, the divine presence the Oracle’s visit had inspired quickly faded, leaving Hazel back on the dusty, dirty earth.

 _There was no way a goddess would choose me_ , Hazel realized as she entered the dim hole. _Not the mess of a young girl she was who could not even save her only friend._

The young boy lying down on a thin, uncomfortable mat on the floor moaned in restless agony, Hazel desperately struggled to replicate the feeling of tentative hope she had been given in the market earlier that day.

Wiping his fevered sweat off with a damp rag, it already felt like a distant dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for the comments because they literally fuel this work and I appreciated them so much!
> 
> I decided to use the chapter titles the same way Uncle Rick does, and they'll be (6) POV's total. (2) have already been revealed, Percy and Hazel, can you guess the other four? 
> 
> Thank you for reading and validation is my life source, see you next chapter!


	4. Jason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE END NOTES POR FAVOR

Jason was trained to expect a lot of things.

As head soldier of the palace and personal bodyguard to the most important individual in the Eastern Kingdom, he had to be. Queen Annabeth’s life depended on it, on _him,_  and he would be damned if everything in his range of power was not done to make sure that that trust was not misplaced. 

But recently he felt that his efforts were no longer enough.

 

For instance, on the day that the Peace Summit with the Westerners had been solidified, the queen had almost died mere hours earlier. 

 

With a face flushed from exertion, strands of hair hanging from the normally immaculately braided bun, and the crystal crown halfway across the room from where it flew off her head, the newly crowned ruler was not seeming very queenly.  

“Your majesty!” As he held the intruder at spear-point, Jason had wanted nothing more than to rush to her and confirm she had no injuries, despite the fact that the assassin had been incapacitated as soon as she attempted to draw her weapon.

Disguising herself as a maid had been clever, but this was obviously not a trained individual. As soon as she had been summoned into the throne room by the queen, the young woman had let out a guttural yell of rage and charged the monarch, a stiletto suddenly materializing from the folds of her modest white robes.

Jason, who had been stationed right by the queen’s side as a proper protector should be, had stepped forward, easily sidestepping the wild but deadly lunge that faced him. In less than a minute, the attacker was disarmed-A quick whack with the heavy metal shaft of his weapon on the impostor's unprotected sides had her crumpling over, the knife slipping from her grasp. Flipping the spear and forcefully pushing her to the floor with the blunt side ended the fight. Or so it seemed.

“I am fine,” Annabeth called out to him from where she sat unmoved from the throne, watching carefully as her bodyguard leveled the very sharp point of the spear at the traitor’s throat. She opened her mouth once more to inform him of their next move-Though the Easterners' law decreed that any citizen who dare commit treason would immediately be executed, the queen had decided to order the criminal apprehended first in a new and surprising change-Just as the woman pulled out another blade from her clothing.

Though certain death was being pointed at her, the false maid’s eyes shone unafraid, and she threw the projectile with what could only be blessed accuracy.

 

The bravery in her gaze died, as did the glow of life, when the metal spear tip hovering above pierced her stomach with a sick squelching noise, cutting through her body as if it were paper.

But her weapon had already been thrown, and Jason had no time to stop it-No time to even move as it sliced past his head, aimed for the spot the queen’s heart had been positioned a split second ago.

Annabeth stared wide in shock from the ground where she had dived in order to miss being pierced with the knife now embedded in her throne. Her gaze shifted up to her bodyguard, dazedly travelling down the length of the spear and ending on the near motionless body of her attacker.

A trickle of blood was running down the woman’s mouth, exactly the same shade as what was pooling from her midsection.

In a rare moments, the Eastern queen was not sure what to do. A part of her that was buried deep wanted to run to the woman and attempt to save her; the first she would need to do was apply pressure to the wounds, minimize the excessive blood flow and immediately alert a medic-

 _Ridiculous thinking_ , the louder, more conditioned part of her replied. Death had obviously already claimed this girl, but more than that, she was a traitor to the throne and an attempted murderer. An end like this was what she deserved.

 

“You…” Annabeth started as the weak croaking voice sounded from the seemingly lifeless body. The queen avoided looking into the glassy eyes of the-Victim? Transgressor?- _citizen_ by staring instead at the contrast of her still-pumping blood staining the white servant dress she had donned.

That didn’t stop the maid from looking directly at her, however, just as she had when she first drew her weapon.

 

That is how Jason should have known this was not a regular servant; only fellow royalty was allowed to meet the eyes of the queen.

 

“Not-not the gods...But the people. Th-They will-” Her breath was so harsh, so labored, Annabeth wanted to beg her to save her voice.

But she stayed silent instead as the woman finished her sentence. “-Make you pay. You will _pay_.” With that, her head dropped to the side, and she spoke no more.

 

Moments passed in the most complete silence either the queen or her soldier had ever known. Jason did not move from where he stood, and the queen herself was as still as the corpse in front of them.

 

“Thank you, Jason.” Annabeth had whispered, the faithful guard at her side once more and the previously absent palace guards now taking care of the body. They could not do anything for the crimson stains against the previously unsullied marble floor. The cleaners had just been dispatched to report immediately to the throne room and scrub it all off. Yet that would hardly erase the image burned into their minds. 

 Jason could tell the queen was shaken. This was not her first assassination attempt, it could hardly be the last, but it was the only one so far that had been disposed of right in front of her eyes.

 

“Jason,” Annabeth had not turned to look at him when she said his name. Jason worried this incident would be a detriment to her for the rest of the day, perhaps even longer. “Find out the assailant's name. As quick as can possibly be done have her file retrieved.”

The queen was referring to the files that the palace kept on every single citizen of the Eastern Kingdom, updated regularly until their death. Like many decrees in place, it was started by Annabeth's grandmother. Not a single birth, wedding, funeral, or bad case of flu was kept unknown from the rulers.

“Of course, your Majesty." He would take care of that immediately. Just as soon as the queen was secured, of course. Just as soon as he could guarantee that she was safe and okay, and not just physically.

“Annabeth-“ The bodyguard quietly muttering her name garnered a reaction from the queen; she snapped her head up and stared at him. No one not directly related to the royalty was allowed to address her by name. Jason knew that above everyone save the ruler herself, but something told him he was safe from beheading.

Having no family members currently alive, he wondered how long it had been since the queen heard her own name.

Something told him it was what Annabeth needed.

“-Are you okay?” 

This type of informal question almost surprised Annabeth more than him calling her by her first name, more than what had happened less than an hour ago. Almost. 

“No.” She breathed out after a long moment, just barely slumping forward in exhaustion. Jason knew how unusual it was to show even this small amount of weakness, and he realized just how much pressure she must be under to convince her to do so.

“I am far from okay, my guard. The West has yet to reply to the meeting point, I fear they will refuse, or even take offense at it. One can never tell with those Westerners.”

“From what I have heard of the West’s failing resources, you will need not worry for much longer. They would be foolish to refuse a meeting, especially at such strategically sound ground. Choosing neutral land was very wise, my queen.”

Jason’s attempted words of reassurance did not seem to do anything for the ruler.

“Ah yes,” She sighed, her tone just barely bridging misery, and not even bothering to acknowledge the compliment. “They would be foolish and we are  _anything_ but.” It sounded as if the queen were rehearsing a line, and indeed, the words sounded familiar to Jason, but he could not place where.

The phrase was obviously a reference to how the Wisdom goddess had blessed the Eastern Kingdom, and continued to so. Or, that’s what they had been told. While it was true the East’s intelligence in using their supply of metal had increased weapon production, this year’s crops had barely been sufficient for the steadily growing population.

Weighing that, along with the blatant fact of the war’s duration...How could centuries of fighting be wise?

 

Jason’s thoughts were almost treasonous, but at least there was wisdom in him choosing not to speak them aloud.

 

“The people are unhappy, the war might still wage on..." She took a breath, heavy and sorrowful, and Jason could tell that whatever she was about to reveal would be shocking.

"My guard, I have news to share with you and it is of a shocking nature. I am planning to-“ The queen was not able to finish revealing her statement however, as someone knocked on the throne room door at that exact moment, cutting her words short.

 

It was a maid who entered, after receiving permission of course, but Jason’s hand still immediately flew to the sword at his side. His spear was off being cleaned, but the grip he held on his current weapon was just as tight, and he was ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

The queen shifted ever so slightly in her throne; maybe, like Jason, she was unable to stop the comparison of this young servant to the other one who had been carried out of the room under a thick cloth.

If this new maid noticed any tension, she did not comment on it, choosing to simply do her job instead. Pulling out a piece of paper, she announced, “Your majesty, Commander Frank Zhang has returned and is currently requesting to meet with you.”

She did not say why he was here, such crucial information would not be left in the hands of a simple maid, but she did not have to. Both the queen and her guard knew that Zhang was the one leading the Peace Summit requests with the Westerners own military leader, Reyna Ramirez-Arellano.

As Queen Annabeth nodded in acceptance and beckoned the maid to usher him in, Jason knew without her telling him that she was hoping for a positive response. He could naturally tell by the way her hands clenched the chair’s armrests, or how she bit her lip in worry-Before realizing what she was doing and dropping it.

 

Frank Zhang, head of the Eastern army, was still clad in his armor when he walked in. His gold breastplate shone in the harsh castle lights and the flowing red cape Jason had never seen him without was characteristically fastened on his shoulders.

This young man could never be confused with an Easterner, not with his dark hair and unusual features-Unusual for the common looks of the East, at least. And while the West possessed more diverse citizens, he did not resemble one of them either.

In truth, he was from the Northern Kingdom, a small nation who had long since bowed out of the war. But not before losing many men, women, and children to the side they were fighting, to death, to being taken prisoner by the East.

Zhang had been born in prison, a captivity his mother had not survived. 

Annabeth’s grandmother, the cruelest-Or strongest, depending on whom you ask, woman in the Kingdom had taken the baby and thrust him into soldier training as soon as he was old enough, which was not very old at all.

The only reason Jason knew all of this was because of the curiosity-and even envy-He had possessed at watching the boy work his way up the ranks effortlessly. At least, that is how he made it look.

At Jason’s request, Annabeth had shown him the young man’s citizen file. He knew more about the kid standing before him-Because really, despite his impressive accomplishments, he was still just a kid-Than even Zhang himself knew.

The imprisonment, the unwavering loyalty he held for the East, how he knew nothing about his origins, and even the rumor that his cloak was gifted by the War God himself-Jason knew it all.

Not being able to know where you came from, Jason imagined it was tougher than Zhang let on. As the commander knelt on one knee before the queen and bowed his head, he felt an unexpected surge of sympathy.

 

Calling the queen by her name, his dangerous thoughts on Wisdom, and now, pitying a soldier? The close assassination attempt must have rattled Jason more than he realized, and he struggled to push it to the side as Zhang began to relay the information. 

“The West has agreed to a Peace Summit at Half-Blood Point, your Highness. In exactly seven days time it is expected to begin.”

Jason frowned. Seven days...That was more than enough time for the ruthless Westerners to travel there and defile the tower with traps. It would not be very wise to let them arrive first.

The queen seemed to be on the same page as him, “My guard, you will travel there immediately and arrive before the Westerners, if you can help it. Make sure this is not a trap. I will follow a day or so behind you, but if you suspect anything, you must contact Octavian immediately so he may tell me.”

Jason nodded in agreement, already mentally picking out the soldiers he would bring with him, one of which was the young man in front of him.

“Zhang will stay here with me.” The queen said, interrupting and contrasting his thoughts. “With you gone, I see no one who could possibly be a better fit.”

Zhang refrained from smiling at the praise, but Jason would swear to the gods he had seen red rise to the boy’s cheeks.

 

“Yes, your highness.” He nodded at the same time Jason did.

With no more needed to be said, Annabeth waved her hand in a dismissive motion, sending Zhang away. For just a brief moment, it caused Jason to see her grandmother sitting in her stead. 

That is where he had heard her earlier words before, the guard realized. Her deceased grandmother, the being responsible for pounding the East’s long held morals and values into the young queen's mind, was still influencing her in the present day.

Jason had silently witnessed the matriarch many times in his own rise to the top, and he doubted if he would ever forget her mannerisms, especially as they seemed to be living on in the next ruler.

 

Once Frank left the throne room, the huge doors closing with a resounding clang, the queen turned to her guard.

“You will depart immediately.” No romanticisms were attached, the Queen was back to strictly business, her own self. Chilly, calculated, superior; the qualities of a true Eastern leader.

“Of course, my queen.” Jason affirmed, bowing low before beginning to head towards the doors.

But perhaps she was not completely herself as she quietly called out,  “Jason, please be cautious. More than that, be safe.” Her voice had a tone of vulnerability that, in all his years of service, he had never heard before.

“Of course, my queen.” He repeated before walking out and leaving her in that cold room all alone.

 

Ultimately the point of the story was that despite having been trained to expect practically anything, the queen had almost lost her life days ago.

And somehow, impossibly, it seemed to be happening again. A young, innocent looking but undoubtedly suspicious, girl was in front of Jason and he had no idea what to expect.

 

There were at the very top of the Half-Blood tower, and Jason and his soldiers had arrived to the sight of not a single soul in the deserted area. Already they had searched the rest of the floors, exploring every nook and cranny and finding nothing of importance, including anybody else.

So what was she doing here, walking down a dim hallway leading to the final floor, in the opposite direction the soldiers had been going-And how?

 

With her large curls that sprung around her head, smooth dark skin, and startling golden eyes, there was no doubt in his mind who this girl was.

He cursed under his breath, having been positive just minutes before that they had arrived before the Westerners, in a dark tone that obviously scared the child- _Spy_.  _Do not infantilize her,_ He sharply reminded himself. It was easy enough to do so, especially with the way her lower lip was quivering and how she looked as if she were on the verge of tears. 

Having several spears suddenly pointing at you, accompanied with harsh orders to freeze, could easily do that.

 

But she obviously was a Western assassin. There was no way a young girl such as herself would attend the summit, especially as no one else seemed to be here yet. The enemy, for that was truly what they were, now more than ever, was undeniably crafty. Jason felt his heart harden as he realized that the Peace Summit was over before it had even begun.

 

Remembering the quick moves of the maid back home, Jason took a step forward and leveled his spear towards her throat.

“Yew, Solace,” Behind him, two of his guards started forward, ready for their orders. “Search the Westerner. Retrieve any weapons and then restrain her.”

Before they could even move however, a steady accented voice from behind her said, “I do not believe that will be necessary.”

Jason’s grip on his spear tightened as a man walked out from the shadows and stood behind the girl. Right behind were a group of armed soldiers rivaling his own.

 

The Westerners had arrived.

 

His spear did not dip as the man stared unimpressed at it, nor as Jason stared at him.

 

His skin was tanned like all Westerners, though not as dark as the girl besides him.

His hair fell around his sharp angular face and shone silkily in the torchlight provided by a soldier behind him, but his stubble appeared rough and coarse, as if he were growing it in. His eyes were a striking green that the dim glow could not have done justice to, and he bore the recognizable Western armor, terracotta in color but as strong as his own, Jason was sure. Carved metal scales covered part of the chest area, a honor symbol for one of their gods.

At his side was a sheathed sword which his hand ever so lightly rested on.

 

Jason could not help but silently compare the difference to his own armor, as contrasting as they were. For starters, his was a dark gray in color, a bit bulky around the chest perhaps, but the extra protection had thus far served him well. Framing the shoulders was a large feathered cape, a sign of honor and prestige.

The queen had one very much like it.

It was also a reminder of the harsh climate the Eastern Kingdom endured. While it would not be needed during the sticky humid days, the temperature at Half-Blood Point dropped quickly with the falling sun and it would be more than appreciated to keep warm during the night. He had kept it on while scoping the place as the familiar weight was a subconscious comfort.

 

“Why is that?” He finally replied, when he was done sizing up the man and his soldiers.

“Because,” The guard replied, still not reaching for his weapon, “She is not a spy or an assassin, as I am sure you think she is.”

The Eastern words sounded strange in Western accent but somehow also...Alluring, in the way it rolled off his tongue.

“She does not even understand what we are saying right now.” As if to confirm this, he looked down at the girl, who had been staring at the Western soldier the entire time in what appeared to be shock.

 

 _“Hlao mala aoiw pola irworp, tenesa lower hin.”_ Was how it sounded to Jason and the rest of his soldiers as he talked to the child.

Her tense shoulders just barely relaxed at the language that was obviously familiar to her. After a moment she met Jason’s eyes and shook her head, attempting to convince him of what the man had said.

“I am Perseus.” The guard said, opening his mouth to say more before abruptly stopping when he saw the confused expression on Jason’s and his soldiers face.

“You do not understand our language?”

“No, but you understand ours.” He pointed out. 

One of the soldiers, Jason could tell just from the voice it was one of the more troublesome ones, spat on the ground and hissed, “Why would we bother to learn your savage language?”

 

It had been a good idea to keep the cloak on after all, Jason realized, as the temperature in the hallway after that one sentence rose a couple degrees.

 

 _“Ratylo Easterners,”_ A soldier behind Perseus snarled, and Jason did not need to know the Western language to understand it had not been a compliment.  

Perseus held up a hand for silence. The same small but easy smile he had been wearing when he first appeared was on his face, but his gemstone eyes has crystallized.

“Enough.” He commanded, addressing both sides. “This girl is my sister,” Perseus revealed, sliding a protective arm around her shoulders. In the same motion, he swept her behind him so that Jason’s spear point was suddenly pointed directly at him.

Still he did not draw his sword.

“She is also a, what does your kind call it? A _lady-in-waiting_ to our queen. She was supposed to travel with the queen but despite me telling her over and over again that I would be fine, she was worried for my safety and wanted to come with. She must have snuck in with my soldier’s supplies, or a tale along those lines.”

 

In the end, it was Perseus's tone that convinced Jason he was telling the truth. The sibling reproach was apparent in the words, and familiar to Jason as he had experienced it with his own sister. 

Grateful that there was yet still hope, he withdrew his spear, holding it once more at his side.

 

“Maybe you should search the rest of your supplies to make sure there are no other stowaways.” Jason sagely advised.

The edge of Perseus’ smirk lifted just slightly, and he held his hand out in common Eastern greeting. “A wise suggestion.” He agreed.

Jason raised his own to shake when the same soldier piped up once more, “ _Bullshit_. There is no way we are going to just hand her over to them, right, Jason?”

 

Jason tensed, both at the guard’s arrogant tone and the informal use of his name. If they had been in the Eastern Kingdom, the soldier would never have dared to speak out. He would have been stripped of his title and thrown in the stocks before the end of his next sentence.

He was aggravated by the Westerners, Jason realized.

 

“How could you be related? You do not even look alike. No, she is _our_ prisoner.”

Before Jason could tell the man behind him to shut his mouth, Perseus moved. He moved so fast it was a blur-Jason did not even hear the unsheathing of his sword. Yet there it was, pressed up against the offenders throat.

Perseus’s voice was as sharp as the weapon he held when he said, “Maybe you should teach your soldiers how to curb their tongues, _Jason_.”

 

Nobody moved a muscle in the hallway, no one scarcely dared to breath as neither side said or did anything.

Not until Jason calmly replied, “A wise suggestion, Perseus.”

 

Perseus dropped the sword from the soldier’s neck, who had gone even paler than his usual skin tone, and returned to his previous position.

 

Annabeth would be furious if she found out that their non-existent relationship with the West has already been damaged by a stupid soldier’s spat, and from experience Jason knew that there was nothing he wanted to avoid more than Annabeth’s fury.

So he held out his hand to Perseus, offering, as the man had just seconds ago, a truce.

 

He did not even bother to look at it, but instead fixed Jason with a cool stare. Strangely enough, it reminded him of the one his queen had been trained to wear.

 In his quick lilting language Perseus said what sounded to be, “ _Ret Easterners tery heasdet un sooldoh bans. Ret pery heasd un dolpoh bans wer tua retal amead silt rell pero vuno.”_

Without another word, he took the girl by the arm and walked off, his soldiers quickly following behind him.

 

Only the scared young woman turned around to spare a final glance towards the Easterners. Only she saw that same prejudiced guard have rage bloom on his face like a growing flower. She was the only one who noticed him grasp the dull grey dagger all Eastern soldiers were uniformly equipped with.

 

She hardly had time to cry out as he lifted his arm to throw it before the stone floor underneath the Easterners collapsed and they were falling through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Jason realizes stuff.
> 
> Y'all know I love every single one of your comments, hmu because I adore hearing your thoughts about this fic! Remember to check out @joleanart 's page on tumblr/insta for some rare pairs 'n amazing artwork!
> 
> EDIT: I know I posted this minutes ago but I meant to ask, in the original art's AU, it was a Percy/Jason +Annabeth/Piper pairing. Now I am a multi-shipper and happy w/ anything, so would y'all like the art's ships or the canon ships?
> 
> Remember: Most likely angst either way :')


End file.
